


The Tragedy of Knowledge

by thenoodlesaresalty



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1970s, Biology, Character(s) of Color, Chronic Illness, F/M, Hospitalization, Hospitals, LGBTQ Character, Laboratories, M/M, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Robots, Science, Science Fiction, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenoodlesaresalty/pseuds/thenoodlesaresalty
Summary: In the aftermath of a deadly outbreak, strict guidelines of health restrict the population, causing innocent people to be thrown out or killed for having even the mildest of fevers. One mutation will change the course of history.





	1. The Brain

Reaching over the table, I grab the micropipette sitting on the counter top of my lab station. Watching as the tip fills with the liquid, I close the container with my other hand. I focus my hand down into the gel, making sure not to break the surface and screw up my results in an irreversible way. As soon as the tip is through, I push down the top twice, filling the pore with the sample of my own blood and DNA. The entire room begins to shake, and I grab hold of the table, pulling the supplies I was using into my hold. Once it finishes, I sigh and push them back onto the table like they were before. 

These damn earthquakes; something’s got to be responsible for them, but sadly they’re not my field of study. Removing the mask from my face, I sigh and plop down onto the chair, leaning far back. One pore filled, about seven more to go. I look at the clock hanging over the exit doorway, its slowly moving second hand taunting me. It almost feels like I've been stuck in this musty and damp room for decades, unable to escape the tight grasp of responsibility. Looking back to my station, I observe the horrible mess I had created with my own two hands. 

Taking in a deep breath, I put the mask back over my face, grabbing the micropipette again and preparing for another trial of gel electrophoresis when someone grabs my arm out of nowhere. I yelp and turn around, pointing the micropipette close to their face. "Nice to see ya too, B."

I move the mask down from my mouth. "Oh, Ms. Wayan. What are you doing here?"

She shrugs, her glasses falling to the tip of her nose. "I don't know, Dr. Thomas said to come and help you with... something." She peers around me, the little balls of kinky hair on top of her head bouncing with her movements. "What'cha working on, B?"

"It's Dr. Packerman, Ms. Wayan." I put the micropipette back down. "And I'm just running some tests of my blood; trying to see something."

"Like what? Are you becoming infected? Or are you trying to see if you have-"

I raise my voice a bit. "Just..." I lower my arms. "tests."

She sighs, playing with the bracelets on her wrist. "You have any work for me? Dr. Thomas said-”

"Yes, yes, you can go and fetch me a-" I cough, covering my mouth with my arm. "A tube."

"Tube?"

"A test tube. Please." 

She runs over to the nearby wall, sorting through all the different kinds of glassware we own. "What does it look like?"

"It's a normal test tube; small and long." I grab a rubber band from the table, tying it around my upper arm. She holds the test tube up to my face, shaking it around. "Oh, thank you." I put the test tube in the test tube rack and place a long tube in it, connecting the test tube with the syringe. That’s a mouthful. I feel around my elbow and spot a prominent vein. Grabbing the syringe, I wipe the needle with a wet cloth, and put it right on the edge of my skin. Holding my breath, I stick the needle in, pushing down on the top as soon as it enters. My blood is withdrawn from my body and enters the test tube slowly. Watching as the amount of liquid increases, I wait until it hits three millimeters, then I take the needle out and apply pressure to the site. "Ms. Wayan." She looks over, putting down the small test tubes she had on her fingers. "Can you-" I start coughing again. "Find me a gauze? It should be in the-" Another cough. "Cabinet over there." She searches through the cabinets, moving various boxes aside. Tossing various supplies out, she grumbles to herself. "It should be near the rubbing alcohol and swabs." She rushes over, carrying the box in both hands. I pull out the roll and nod to her with a slight smile. Unraveling the gauze, I take scissors from the table and cut off a part, wrapping the said part around my elbow where the needle struck. I stare at the test tube, its red color almost... threatening to me, like something just isn't…

She peeks around my side, looking to the test tube. "Soooooo, what's it mean?"

"I'm not sure yet, I'll have to do some dropper tests to determine blood clotting and if there are any... complications with my blood."

"Complications? Like you're-"

"I'm  _ literally just  _ checking my health, alright? I've been having some concerns recently." I take a dropper and suck up some of the blood, plopping little droplets on a petri dish. Shining a bright light on my sample, I take notice of the clarity of the droplets; the sample is as opaque as blood could really be. So far so good. Pressing the various buttons on the small device connected to a small dish. I take another small sample and drop it into the dish, pushing it into the machine. I feel my heart start to tighten, but I grab my chest to make it stop.

"Are you going to be ok, Dr. B?" she asks, stuffing her hands into her lab coat’s pockets.

I sigh, waiting for the results from the machine. After a small moment of silence, "Maybe." It's all I can truly say. The machine whirs and whirs, just trying to figure out what is wrong with me. I start to have another coughing fit, nearly doubling over as my chest begins to tighten. Ms. Wayan runs over, but I shoo her away, returning to my original posture of hunching over and resting my arm on the counter-top. The machine finishes and spills out a receipt of the results. If it weren't for this bulky piece of junk, well, this would've taken me at least a week... maybe more. I rip the receipt off, scanning each and every line for anything concerning. One line stands out the most: my blood cells are wrong. "Oh, God." I keep rereading the same line, over and over again until my eyes start to sting and practically stab themselves. "Hemoglobin S? Wait, no, no... that's not right. That can't be right."

"Dr. Packerman? Are you alright?"

Turning around, my face drops to the floor. "I'm infected."


	2. The Spinal Cord

"You're infected?! How?!" She asks, trying to look at the receipt as well.

"My blood's wrong. It's all wrong. That explains... the chest pain, the-" I cough and hack, nearly spitting up my insides. "coughing, how tired I am. Oh my God, it all makes sense now! I figured it out!" I start to laugh before hacking again. "But... I'm infected now."

"Have you been taking your Suppressor? Maybe that's why."

"I've always taken it, it would be foolish of me if I didn’t."

"Then how did this-" The door opens suddenly, revealing the tall and intimidating silhouette of Dr. Thomas. She holds a clipboard close to her torso, her long nails resting on the back like the claws of a vicious bird.

"Ah, Dr. Packerman, there you are." She saunters over to the counter, picking up the small stack of papers and straightening them out. I quickly shove the receipt into my pocket, sweating heavily like a broken faucet. "I'm here for the lab results. The committee wishes to see them..." She looks over to me, my smile unnatural and sweat dripping down my face. She crooks her eyebrow, adjusting her glasses and fixing her matted hair. "Right... do you have the results of the test?"

"The... test, yes, of course!" I search around the station to find the results that won't force me into complete quarantine and hand them to her. I feel like coughing again, but I hold back its destructive force, my eyes almost bulging out from my sockets. She looks over, squinting long and hard. "Everything's fine, Dr. Thomas! Just haven't been sleeping properly, you know how it is, with this mountain of work." Laughing a bit, I try to contain the storm of coughing that's still rising. 

I gently nudge her with my elbow, but she doesn’t return the affection and brushes me off. "Well, I'm  _ truly sorry _ you feel this way about your work. I expect you to perform a urinalysis and a culture by the end of the day." Before she walks out, she turns her head to face me. " **Don't** disappoint me." The door slides shut, leaving behind a cloud of dust.

I just... stand there, mouth agape and hair already frizzing up. This is all just so... "Now what?” Ms. Wayan asks, furrowing her eyebrows. "They're gonna find out. Nothing gets past them."

"Yes, I know that, but if I keep this little facade up for a while, I can find a cure! Then everything will be normal."

"And how long will that take?" She sighs, grabbing the receipt and waving it around my face. "Face it, B, they're gonna be sending us both to Theta in no time. Oh, they'll have us in biomedical torture for the rest of our lives!"

" _ Us _ ? Why would they send  _ you  _ there? It's  **_my_ ** illness."

She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. "Because I've been around you the longest out of everyone here as of late. If you're out, I'm out too. That's the rule." She paces around the room, gripping her fluffed up hair tight. "We need a plan. I didn't waste hours of my life in high school applying for college level courses, dedicate my entire junior year to taking said courses, and apply for this  _ very  _ internship just for it to be ruined by some... rogue gene." She plants her finger on my chest, pushing me back a bit. "I am getting you help, whether you want me to or not."

"You know, Ms. Wayan," I move away from her, playing with the lone earring in my right ear. "I'm quite fine right now. I don't think any of this is-" I start coughing again, "Is-" Coughing again, I feel like my heart will burst right there on the spot. I double over, using the counter-top as a means of supporting myself. As I continue hacking, I notice what has come out from me: Blood. Even though I noticed the blood, my body continues to hack and wheeze, releasing more blood out and onto the floor. Ms. Wayan comes over, patting my back as I let out all the blood from my system. Once I finish, I feel light headed and ready to pass out, which she notices.

"Alright, that's it. You're going home."

"What? No, no, let me stay here and work-"

She drags me outside the lab, the heels of my feet trying their best to resist. "You're going. Come on."

The receptionist looks up from her paperwork, shaking her head as she observes us both attempting to leave. "Dr. Packerman." I slowly turn my head to face her, my mouth hanging low. Chuckling, she points her pen to the sign out sheet. "Don't forget to sign out before you go."

"Oh," I laugh. "Right. My apologies." I grab the pencil, trying desperately to not have my hand shake like a cold, hairless cat. After I sign my name, I wave to her as Ms. Wayan pulls me out the door.

The outside is incredibly crowded, with hordes of people flooding the sidewalks and masses of cars overtaking the streets. The sky is lined with dark, looming clouds that only mean rain or snow later. Looking all around, she spots a sign for Zone Beta. "There? That's your Zone?" I nod, and she starts pulling me towards it, pushing everyone else out of the way. 

We arrive at my less than stellar home, with paint chipping off and the stairs crumbling away. She shoves me through the door, slamming it shut behind us. "Alright, lay down." I cock my eyebrow. "Just lay down, will ya? I'm trying to help you. I'll go find something for your cough." Sighing, I take a seat on the nearby couch, laying my head on the arm. I close my eyes, struggling to relax with this horrible pain striking my hips. Opening one eye, I look at the photos hanging over the busted t.v. set, the memories put a smile on my face. Such as the time when I went to a... protest up in New York back in '69. Those were the days, before the lab, before this pain. Ms. Wayan comes back, holding a small bottle of medicine and a glass of juice with a few ice cubes floating on top. She pours some of the medicine into a small cup and places the bottle on the coffee table. Handing me the little cup, she grabs the glass of juice. "Just take that, and you'll be good for a few hours."

I examine the liquid, swishing it around in the cup. "What's the juice for?"

"Trust me, you're gonna need it." She chuckles.

Closing my eyes, I chug the liquid, and then immediately start to gag. Oh, that wretched smell! Like that of a wet dog's fur. And the taste, just as if someone had taken all the good and joy from candy and kept the sour, spitting it back into a bottle and served it as 'medicine.' I quickly take the juice from her hands, drinking it all, except the ice cubes of course. Gasping for air, I look to her. "What  _ was  _ that?"

She peers at the bottle's label. "Guaifenesin." Raising her eyebrows, she places it back onto the coffee table. "It's supposed to help with mucus and all that junk." She takes a seat on the worn out chair that sits right in front of the t.v. set. Looking all around the interior, she stares at the photos. "You live here alone?"

"I wouldn't put it like that. I do have a roommate, it's just, she's not here right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, not like that, she's not dead." I struggle to sit up, mumbling in pain. "She's very busy. She's a guard for the lab, you know." She examines the photos more, squinting and adjusting her glasses to see. "Is there something concerning?"

"Not really, just-" She plops back down onto the chair. "You were at Stonewall?"

My eyes go wide, and I start stuttering and tripping over my words. "No, no, no, I was just in the area. It- I wasn't- I'm not-"

"Whoa, B, chill. I'm-"

"Oh, don't you say a word to the police, I-I can't go to prison, not like  _ this _ !"

"B, I'm not reporting you." I cock my eyebrow, leaning a bit forward. "I won't report you, 'cause I kinda understand."

"You?"

"Yes, me. I'm a lesbian, B." My mouth becomes agape, and my eyes go wide again. I point at her and then at me, my eyebrow cocked. Nodding, she laughs. "Yep. That's me. But enough of this ‘gay-talk’, we need to find a cure for your... illness." Standing up, she begins to pace around, her hand under her chin. "Maybe we could... or probably, no..."

Looking through the window, I notice a large group of people yelling outside, all with a single symbol on their jackets: Two circles, barely connected by a line, or simply, mitosis. "Oh no."

"What?" I point outside, moving the curtains aside. "Oh no." We both rush to the door, trying to get out at the same time. The group begins yelling, throwing their fists into the air.

"We demand all of those whose body is trapped in a never-ending state of 'purity' to come forward. Tell us your pain and torment!" One of them yells, getting close to the bystanders standing around them. One of them looks at us, glaring at our lab coats, but soon they continue to walk by. "Rebel against the rigid rules! Divide your cells and become free!" Their yelling soon fades as they continue down the street, waving their banners and trying to gather more bystanders.

"Welp, that's one more problem to add to our little mountain." She sighs, flattening her hair.

"We should follow them."

"What?!" She exclaims, jumping back a touch. "I think the sickness is making you la la. We are not following them. You know what the Man will do if they catch us around them, we'll be-" She takes her thumb and moves it across her neck, making a gag sound. "Outta here."

"You might be right, but they have what we need. Answers." I make my way down the stairs. "If we tell them about my condition, they'll help us. It's what they do."

"Do you hear yourself, B?! It's the Divide. They're insane!" I continue to walk down the stairs, getting ready to walk down the street. As I walk down the street, she calls out, "Fine! Just wait for me!" I smile, slowing down a touch for her to follow.

The crowd of the Divide walk through dark alleys, almost like a group of lab rats in a maze. Ms. Wayan and I stay as far back as we can while still being able to see the group. The buildings that shroud us from anyone else start to gradually become worse and worse the farther we walk in, with dried up plants taking over the walls, said walls also crumbling off, and windows broken with shattered glass scattered all over the dirt ground. Ms. Wayan begins to murmur to herself, keeping her distance from me. "Is everything alright, Ms. Wayan?" I ask, turning my head a bit to see her. Nodding her head, she looks away from me and to the buildings. I can feel my heart struggling and a pain in the right side of my head, but I just grip my shirt tight, clenching my teeth to the point where they might chip away from the friction. "Perhaps... everything can go back to normal if we speak with them. I'm sure they have the answers we need."

" _ Are _ you sure?" She asks, hunching over as she crosses her arms. "You've heard the rumors, yeah? What if they kill you?"

Walking slower, I take a few deep breaths. "Would the Capital treat me any better?"

"No, but..." Sighing, she rubs her neck. "You're right. But... don't you see the risk of  _ any  _ of this? I  **want** you to be better, but... the options aren't exactly the best, far from it, really."

"I know the risk, but it's worth it in the end, no? I can at least try."

"Yeah, I guess that makes-" A loud boom bursts from beyond the crowd, the Divide members scattering like those lab rats, yelling and screaming. In awe, my eyes lock with the bright green plasma that was shot into the air. "The cops!" Ms. Wayan yells, ducking behind a dumpster, pulling me down as well. Sounds of a riot growing echo in the alley. "Hm," She squats above the ground, hand under her chin. "Cops don't quit, do they?"

Looking around the dumpster, I notice more plasma being fired and the Divide fighting back with their own weapons. Moving back behind the cover, I plop down on the ground. "Apparently not." I sigh, resting my back against the cold, dull green metal.

"Man, why do cops have to ruin  _ everything _ ?" She asks, crossing her arms and huffing. "How long 'till they calm down?"

A sound booms from a distance, tossing debris over to our little dumpster hiding spot. "Far too long. We need to get past. We need to speak with the Divide."

Huffing, she looks back around the dumpster. "Yeah, but like, if there's any left after this."

Hours pass as the bright greens and sounds of metal on metal gradually come to a halt. Sky grows dark, the sun setting over the chrome and brick buildings. Ms. Wayan snores as she rests her head in her lap. I feel my heart begin to hurt, and I graze my fingers over the fabric separating them from my skin. A cough grows in the back of my throat, aching to be let out, so I move away and cough into my elbow, trying not to wake Ms. Wayan just yet. The cold and dry air almost feels like daggers against my skin, making my throat horribly dry and ready to brew another cough. Taking deep breaths and holding my hand over my heart, the pain soon fades away, only striking some pain, similar to if someone keeps tapping your head repeatedly. Feeling around my shirt's pocket, I find the vial from before. I rub my thumb over the glass, the blood inside swishing around slowly. Sighing, I place it back inside my pocket before looking back around our hiding spot. The only noise coming from behind the dumpster are quiet murmurs and the occasional animal sound. I shake Ms. Wayan gently, her eyes barely opening. "Yeah?" She asks, her voice quiet and raspy. Motioning over around the dumpster, we both get up, I help her up by pulling her arm with little force.


	3. The Heart

Walking down their path from earlier, we soon enter Zone Theta, indicated by the flickering neon sign with the mathematical symbol theta. Windows on buildings are cracked to pieces, broken glass falling to their doom as the gusts of wind blow them away. The streets aren't paved like the ones back in Zone Beta, instead all that's left are dirt roads covered in various plants. And if that wasn't enough, people walk around like zombies, their heads low and backs hunching over. I feel a chill go down my spine as we pass the zombie-like people, people I might have to soon call friends, and some I used to recognize.

Ms. Lombargi, a wonderful baker of muffins, now a severed head that rolls down the street, possibly searching for her lost body. Or what about Mr. Lukas? He used to be the local librarian, and now he's slumped up against a broken and moss covered wall, plants overtaking his frail body. Penelope Snickers was such a bright young woman, I had thought she would be able to go to Harvard, but it seems she's simply a rotting corpse, hidden horribly in the shadows. I feel tears welling up in my eyes and the tight pain in my chest comes back. Gripping my chest, I take a deep breath and sigh, continuing to push through. Ms. Wayan, keeping close to me, starts to breathe heavily. "B," She tries to keep up with my fast pace. "Are they... will they be ok?" She whispers, keeping her voice down. I keep my head low, my lips trembling. "I guess I... should've expected this from Theta. We'd always hear threats in school about 'being sent to Theta if we continue to act up.' Now I know why." 

"We should hurry before someone finds us missing. Curfew starts soon."

"Right." I stop in my tracks, which makes her bump into me. "What? What's happening?" She looks up to where I'm looking, a menacing building looms over us, its exterior busted and bruised. Windows are missing or the glass is scattered around like a maze of knives. A broken down sign stands in front of us, a picture of a cell going through mitosis is printed on it with the words 'The Divide.' Many of these infected walk in, out, and around the building, sulking. I look to Ms. Wayan, my eyebrows furrowing and mouth low and she gives me the same look. Knocking on the wood-like door, I stand as far back as I can, legs shaking a lot as I wait for a reply. The cold air slices against my face, leaving very minuscule scratches on my cheeks. I can feel a cough coming up, but I don't want to draw attention towards us, so I try stifling it down, which only makes it worse. "B," Whispering through her teeth, she grabs my arm. " _ Don't _ ." My eyes begin to ache in pain as my throat gets drier and drier by the second. " **_B_ ** ." Swallowing hard, my throat stops being as scratchy as it was, and we both sigh in relief... and then I start having a coughing fit, the sound echoing off the walls and throughout the slums. Suddenly, as if they're all controlled by the same person, the infected turn to us, eyebrows cocked downwards. They start coming towards us, surrounding the two of us. " **B** !"

"What?! I can't-" I cough again. "Control when I cough!" The horde grows closer and closer, so close I can almost taste their hanging drool and rotting skin. Right before one touches me, something pushes us both out of the way.

They kneel on the ground before taking off, holding both our arms in their hands. "C'mon! This way." Sliding into an alleyway, they release us from their grip. They go to the edge of the shadows, peering from one side to the other, then they turn to us with a... motorcycle helmet covering their face. "You two alright? Quite the surprise out there for a bunch of geeks in lab coats."

I frown, my eyebrows furrowing. "Well, it's  _ nice  _ to meet you too."

They cackle, taking off the helmet to reveal an older woman with a pitch black bob. "I'm just messin' with ya, brother. I got no problem with... dude's like you two." She reaches down, grabbing my hand and shaking it wild. "Lisa, at your service."

"Brent."

She shakes Ms. Wayan's hand as well, smiling wide. "Abigail, o-or Abby." Huh, never did know her first name.

"Huh." She says, raising her eyebrows and laughing a bit.

"What?" I ask, brushing off my pants as I stand up.

"Oh, nothing. Just didn't expect such... normal names coming from dudes wearing lab coats." I furrow my eyebrows. “I was thinking.” She points to me, raising her eyebrows again. “Dr.Bio-Nerd, and the girl: Mini Bio-Nerd.” She chuckles to herself, closing her eyes and looking away.

"It was nice meeting you, Lisa, but we have important business to attend to."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" She leans down, close to my face with her eyebrow cocked. 

"We need help... from the Divide." I spit out, moving past her, taking Abigail by the arm with me. "And we were about to get in before this mess."

She hisses through her teeth. "Yeah, about that, you  _ weren't _ ." Turning around, I narrow my eyes and look right at her face. "What? You think it'd be that easy to find them? It's the Divide, they aren't just gonna be in the middle of Theta. That building’s just a bunch of beds." I hunch over, gripping my forehead tight as the throbbing pain comes back. "Look, I think I can... help you. But first, I wanna know what two normal people are doing here."

Abigail motions to my heart, lowering her eyebrows. "B here’s having problems with his blood. Something's wrong and we don't know why."

She raises her eyebrows, looking down to the ground. "And why are you here? If anything, you look just as 'normal' as we do." I state, my hands on my hips. She starts to laugh, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. "Alright, then what  _ is  _ wrong?"

She stops laughing, wiping tears from her eyes. "Let's just say that getting a certain kind of surgery in the other Zones ain't exactly seen in a good light. Apparently, me wanting to be happy in my body is seen as converting into an infected up there." Her smile fades to a frown. "Got kicked out by the big boss herself." Tearing up, she tucks her face into her elbow.

"I'm... I'm sorry." I say, moving a bit closer to her, barely hidden by the shadows.

She chuckles, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand. "Nah, don't be sorry. It was a long time ago, doesn’t matter anymore." Taking a few deep breaths, she strides over to us, putting her hand on my shoulder. "Let's go fix your blood." I smile up to her. "If the Divide helped me with my 'infected' problem, then they can help with yours."

"What even is the Divide? All I been hearing is that they conduct experiments on puppies and kittens, or something crazy like that." Abigail says, playing with her bracelets. 

"And you two do anything different? No offence, but some of the experiments you do are also 'crazy.' What we need to do is get to the headquarters." Looking back to the city, lights begin shutting off, sector by sector. "But first, you might wanna get in bed. Don't want the fuzz coming after you two."

Nodding, I turn to leave, Abigail right next to me. But before we exit the shadows, I turn my head to face her. "Where should we meet you?"

"Uh, right around that building from before, just don't make a scene like last time." She chuckles, salutes us and walks off, holding her helmet under her arm. She disappears, like a shadow returning to her kind.

A tall fence blocks off Zone Beta, but no guards in plain sight. Simple enough, yes? Just climb over and all will be good. I reach for the chains, but Abigail stops me. "Wait," She picks up a small rock from the ground, tossing it at the fence, which results in it being shocked to hell and thrown back to us, charred and smoking. "We'll have to find another way in." Looking up, I notice more and more lights shutting off. "And fast." We both search in opposite directions, I go left and she goes right.

As if thousands of bombs had been dropped, every house is crumbling down and in ruins. infected sulk around, not even noticing me or what I'm doing. Looking around, I see a large part of the fence that's rusting, and it continues down the entire side, growing in size by the milometer. Perhaps if I were to have a large amount of force strike the rusted spots, the fence will break. Suddenly, a hand grabs my shoulder and I almost scream before it covers my mouth. Abigail furrows her eyebrows, looking over to the now moving group of infected. "Did you find something?" I point to the rust. "Oh, perfect!" She rushes over, stopping right before the fence to brush her fingers against the rust. I brace for the shock, shutting my eyes tight, but nothing happens. Turning to me, she laughs quietly. "Rust doesn't conduct electricity." I stand straight, kind of laughing as well. "Did you think I'd just touch the fence just because? C'mon now." The rust stops right at the top, how convenient.

"How are we getting over that?" I ask, fiddling with my fingers.

She perks up, taking her lab coat off and tossing it over the fence, so it rests on the top. "We ‘jump’." Grabbing a group of chain-links, she begins to climb. As she reaches the top, she grabs a hold on her coat and flings herself over, landing on her back on the other side. "Alright, your turn." Her lab coat floats down onto the ground.

I attempt to do the same thing she did, taking off my coat and tossing it over the fence. Climbing up, I get a good view of the streets, the police surveilling the area. He looks over to where we are and I freeze on the top of the fence, and then I lose my balance, falling off and hitting the ground hard. My spinal cord sends horrible messages of pain to my brain, as if I didn't already know. A looming building protects us from the police's eyes and... Her. I pat around for my lab coat, but it's nowhere to be found. Laughing, Abigail points up to the fence, my lab coat still there. "Oh, forget it, we have to go." I tug her arm, running down the streets, weaving in and out of buildings as the police move down the street. The lights continue to be shut off in large quantities, which I had never noticed until I was against it.

Finally, we approach Abigail's house, still hidden in the shadows of the buildings. I nod to her and she runs out and into her house, slamming the door behind her. Loud sounds of presumably her parents come from the inside, but they don't sound mad, but happy, laughing and yelling. I put my hands in my pockets, smiling wide before running back to my sector.

The street's lights are still on, with no police in sight. I look both ways and run across the street, taking refuge behind a trash can. Peeking out from my hiding spot, I notice a police officer walking around, slamming his baton into the palm of his hand. A small... animal of some kind jumps out from the trash can, flinging the lid off and hitting the ground with the volume of a bomb. The officer turns around, moving closer and closer. Scurrying around, the animal runs off into an alley, leaving me behind with the officer. He shrugs his shoulders and walks off in the opposite direction. Sighing in absolute relief, I sneak over to my house, and pulling out my key, I slide it into the keyhole and unlock it.

As I open the door, two voices call out, "Welcome, Dr. Packerman." I freeze up. Dr. Thomas stand right in front of the entryway, holding her arms behind her back. "We have some questions for you." She says, almost like robots. We? I attempt to run outside, but an officer tackles me onto the floor, trying to push my skull through the wood. "Trying to escape? BGPE won't be happy to hear that."

I grunt, struggling to move my body under the weight of the officer. "What... do you want?"

"We know you're infected, Dr. Packerman." She states, bending down and grabbing my face by the chin. Her eyes are narrow and stab my soul. "We saw you run off into Zone Theta. Bring him to Her." She snaps her fingers and the officer puts handcuffs on my wrists, hauling me into the police car. As he slams the door, she stands outside on the sidewalk, her posture unnaturally straight. Grinning wide, she waves as the car drives by, her head turning to watch me go.

The back of the car is musty and strangely humid; it's hard to breathe, even with this condition. The handcuffs cut at my wrists, which are then cut into more cuts. It's rather grating to say the least, especially since my hands are behind me. On top of that, the handcuffs beep, every five seconds. Passing many buildings, I look out the window, some of these buildings I had never seen before. Some are taller than the atmosphere, while others are small and round. I sigh as I fall back into my seat, but laying back a bit irritates the cuts on my wrists and the handcuffs, making more cuts. It's infuriating. I mumble to myself, which grabs the attention of the officer. "First time?"

"First time doing… what?"

"Being 'fixed.'" I nod, looking out the window again. He frowns, fixing the mirror to properly see me in the reflection. "It sucks, I know. Trust me, I've gone through it at least five times. Only reason they didn't send me to Theta was cause I had 'potential.'" He slows down the car a touch. "Sorry, I haven't even introduced myself, Officer Ardanowski." He makes eye contact with me for a quick second before his eyes return to the road. "And sorry about tackling you, I didn't want to be so rough with ya, but they claimed you were some crazed infected, so I tried to contain you. But you're civil… so far. You were a doctor, yeah?"

"Biologist, actually."

" _ Hell _ , that sounds a lot cooler than this. Being a cop blows. All we do here is make people afraid; afraid of Her, you know?" I nod, sitting up straight in my seat. "I just... this isn't what I wanted to do. I wanna help, like people like you." He stops the car out of nowhere, causing me to fly out of my seat and onto the floor. "They're gonna send me to Theta for this, but I don't care." He moves out from his seat, and using a key from his key ring, he unlocks my handcuffs. As they fall to the ground, they begin short circuiting before they stop beeping.

"W-what am I supposed to do now?"

"I  _ should've _ taken you to get fixed, but now, you should head to the capital, talk to the big boss in charge."

"BGPE? You want me to go and talk to Her? After she tried to arrest me?"

He shrugs. "You can argue your case, tell her your side. You've worked for her, she'll listen to someone like you." I nod and open the car door. "Hey," I look to him. "Don't you want a ride there? The capital's pretty far."

"Oh, right." I laugh as I get back inside the car. "My apologies."

The car ride is quiet, with only the occasional coughing fit coming from me. Staring out the window, I notice more of the buildings from before, their identical appearances standing out the most to me. Ardanowski adjusts his mirror, looking right at me. "So what makes you infected? You seem normal to me."

Groaning, as some random spike of pain stabs me in the abdomen, I attempt to speak, "There's... something wrong with my blood."

"You know what it is?"

"No... if I did, I could've fixed it." I bump my head on the window, the cold from outside making my headache worse. "I don't even know why this is happening. One day I'm fine, then suddenly I'm feeling horribly fatigued, like... like I can't even breathe. Or think. Or anything besides opening my eyes. Everything caused a coughing fit… and it- it just wouldn’t stop."

“Did you take your Suppressor?”

I scoff, pressing my fingers to my temple. “As if  _ that _ is the cause. Of course I have, it’s practically one of my involuntary functions.”

“I get it, but,” He peeks up in the rearview mirror. “Maybe one day, you forgot about it?”

“I don’t think my genes would mutate  _ that _ fast. Besides, the doctors made sure I had no major genetic mutations before the crisis and I was clear. And so if it isn’t my genes then it must be- be-” My vision begins to blur, the lights all merging into a singular light, as my limbs grow number and number. I use every ounce of my strength to grip my head, feeling around my skull for any slight bump that could indicate what I'm hoping isn't happening to me. My eyes begin to twitch and pain strikes every part of my body, excluding my left limbs, which have gone completely numb. Ardanowski looks over with his mirror, his eyes wide and mouth crooked.

Slamming on the breaks, the car immediately stops. He turns around in his seat, moving a bit closer to me. " _ Shit _ , is everything ok?" I open my mouth, but nothing comes out except for gags or disjointed words with no real meaning. "Oh God, oh God." He starts to hyperventilate, but takes deep breaths. "Can you smile for me?" I try my best to smile with my teeth, but I can feel one side drooping down. He grunts, but keeps calm. In a calm and reassuring voice, he asks another request, "Raise both your arms." One arm goes up perfectly fine, but the other one seems completely still, with slight twitches. "Now repeat this: Hi, my name is Packerman." I repeat it, but I can hear my speech slurring as I try to say it. He turns back around and slams on the gas, holding me back to keep me from flinging forward. I can barely see, everything's simply blurry. I know where he's taking me, but one thing I don't understand is  _ exactly _ where. Yorkston doesn't have any actual hospitals. So... perhaps... maybe...


	4. The Veins and Arteries

I groan as I rise in the bed, surrounded by all kinds of medical supplies. Oh, what I would give to learn how to use some of these properly. Bottles of alteplase, warfarin, and... I reach over to see the bottle; heparin. As I try to lay back in the bed, small patches of fabric and various chords are on my chest, the chords leading to a small machine showing all kinds of information, including my heart rate and my pulse. With all this medicine, rests surgical scalpels and towels all covered in dried blood. Searching the surprisingly bright room, I notice Officer Ardanowski sleeping on an aged chair in the corner. Huh, so he stayed. I hold my hand over where my heart is, grazing my finger over the stitches, feeling in between the sutures and hissing slightly. I take deep breaths, the breaths labored and shallow. Although, something is confusing and somewhat concerning. Where am I? I try to speak to Ardanowski, but all that comes out is gasps. Have I truly lost the ability to speak? Raspy, I call out to him, "Officer?" My tone is hushed and somewhat slurred.

His eyes open slowly, as he stretches his... uh, fetching body and shows his lower body. Groaning, he chuckles. "Good to see you awake, Pac." Pac? Odd choice for a nickname.

"Where... are we?"

"Oh," He scratches his neck. "We're in Theta right now. I knew this doctor from a loooong time ago that I knew would help ya, and well, yeah, that's about it."

"But... why did you stay? Don't you... have duties?"

He scoffs, looking down to the faded and weirdly damp carpet. "Nah, not anymore. Yorkston won't be hearing from Officer Ardanowski ever again. Now, it's simply Maison! Maison!" He shouts towards the ceiling. Bellowing, he doubles over and sighs. "Oh, you have  _ no _ idea how good that feels."

"I don't?" I ask, a smirk on my face and eyebrows raised. 

"Well, I don't really know." He leans back in the chair, both his arms behind his head. "Have you ever had to keep something... I don't know, like, buried deep down 'cause someone told you to do so?" You mean the fact that I'm a raging homosexual? No, I wouldn't know what burying things down feels like. I shake my head, but then I raise my eyebrows and nod, pointing to my heart. "Oh, yeah. That reminds me, the doc should be back soon. Said something about testing tissues or something like that."

I struggle in my bed, the chords getting in my way and holding me back down. "Who is... the doctor?"

"Um," He clicks his tongue, looking all around the room. "I can't remember... um, Dr. Otis? No... Dr. Olive? Nah that's not it. It starts with an 'O', I know that." Pointing to me, he narrows his eyes. "He said something about knowing you, so that's probably a clue."

"Knows... me?"

"Yeah, something about you being his son or something like that... I think." A son? But I never met my dad? My eyes narrow as I put my fist under my chin. The door creaks open, quiet footsteps echo as a tall figure steps into the room, holding a clipboard in his... hands, right, hands. "Oh, heya, doc! How is he?"

Coughing and hacking into the fold of his arm, he takes off his medical mask, revealing... "Brent... is going to be fine. I just need him to... take a few more pills... of warfarin" He states with an accent from… from… Britain? Looking up, he perks up as he notices me sitting upright. "Greetings, Brent. It has been a while has it?" He chuckles, walking over to the table next to my bed and takes the bottle, shaking a few pills out from it and into his hand. Dropping the pills into my hand, he motions towards my face. "How have you... been?"

"Had a... near death experience."

Laughing raspily, he fixes his glasses. "That is true, yes."

Maison sits up in the chair, his eyebrow cocked and mouth slightly open. "So, how do you two know each other?"

"I used to take care of him when he was a child. He was exceptional, but also… quite the smart aleck."

"Still am, doctor." We both laugh, well I wheeze. "Is everything... alright though? No... long term damage?"

He shakes his... head, looking back to his notes on the clipboard. "Far from it actually. The stroke caused some... permanent damage to the right hemisphere of the brain. What... that means is that you will have some trouble with some actions involving that side. Such as balance, or analysis, or proper assessment of a situation." He fans his hand, furrowing his eyebrows. "But you are still with us. You are lucky; if Officer Ardanowski did not bring you in, I'm not sure you would have..." Sighing, he begins wiping the blood off the medical tools, not making eye contact. My eyes move up, and I notice the large and deep scar across the right side of his head, sutures and everything.

"Dr. Orlov?" I call for his attention. His eyes shift to me. "Your... your..." Groaning, I point to the scar, struggling to keep my hand in the air.

"Oh," He puts his finger to the scar, following the path of the sutures. "That. It was… a while ago. You remember when I disappeared?” I nod, looking down. “I was 'fixed' and brought here to Theta. I 'acted' out... against the capital and instead of treating me like... I had a valid point, they simply cut part of my brain out and sent me... here." He sets the tools down, leaning over the table and mumbling. "Theta needed...  _ needs  _ a doctor. I have the proper knowledge, so... here we are today."

"That's awful, doc." Maison says, a more hushed tone to his voice. "Did ya… lose anything?”

He chuckles, scrunching his eyes shut. "Nothing too important... just the…” He mumbles under his breath. “Amygdala gland and bits and pieces of the temporal lobe." Maison blinks a bit, tilting his head. "I do not feel pain." Maison  _ ahhs  _ as he leans back. 

"That must be nice."

"Not when you cannot determine if you are being tickled or being stabbed in the abdomen with a rusty knife." There's silence in the room, before he says, "I am kidding, of course." He takes the clipboard and hands it to me, flipping through the pages. He hacks and sounds like he’s about to cough up his lungs. "...We will need to conduct some basic tests to determine what the damage is. If you do not mind?" I shake my head. " _ Praeclarus _ !" He and Maison pull me out of bed, helping me stand on the shaggy carpet. I notice I'm wearing a worn and clearly aged hospital gown. "Officer Ardanowski-"

"Just call me Maison." He smiles wide, beaming like the sun. 

"Okay...  _ Maison _ , may you hold Brent up?" He nods, supporting me by linking his arms under mine. Dr. Orlov walks over to the other side of the room, holding his palm facing us. "Brent... I want you to try and walk to me and touch my hand, okay?" I nod, looking to Maison, he lets me go and I struggle to stand up straight and keep my legs still. Moving my left leg forward, I place my foot on the ground, but my leg nearly crumbles down to the floor. Maison notices and tries to support me again, but Dr. Orlov says, "Let him try." Maison moves away a bit, keeping his foot forward and arms out. My right leg can properly walk, with a slight limp, but my left leg struggles, practically dragging behind me. I press my hand to Dr. Orlov's palm, my left leg still dragging. "Hm. Next we should test your vision." He walks over to another wall, pulling down an eye vision chart seemingly out of nowhere. "What is the smallest line that you can read?" I squint, looking at the letters, only the first three lines being visible.

"Um... the third line?"

"Hm, not good." He lets go of the string and the chart shoots back up. He grabs a box of various colored blocks, tossing them onto the ground. "Please sort these by color and size."

"Doc, what exactly does this have anything to do with his brain?" asks Maison as he leans down with his hands in his jacket pockets.

"A stroke could have damaged his organizational skills. We must test to see if he has any problems." I begin sorting them, easily putting them all into their own piles. Afterwards, I show them to Dr. Orlov. "Um... Brent?" He picks up a block from the red pile, showing it to me. "What color is this?"

"Red?"

He sighs, putting it back down. "No, it is blue. There are clearly some problems with your vision and balance, which is not too horrible. For your balance," He fixes his glasses, getting up and leaving without a word. Sounds of a struggle come from a different room before he runs in, holding a long crutch and gasping for air. "Here," He hands it to me, and I detach from Maison, strapping it onto my arm and shifting my weight onto it, which pushes me higher in the air. "Good, good." He gets up and grabs his clipboard, scribbling something down.

I look to Maison, nodding towards the doctor. "Oh, hey, doc?" He peaks up from his writing. "What does this mean for Brent? What is he supposed to do now?"

"Now? Brent will have to go through many, many weeks of... physical therapy to restore his balance. It will not be easy, but if we can restore the brain's functions back to normal... he should become better."

My eyes go wide, and I open my mouth to speak, part of it still drooping. "My... my blood."

"What?" Dr. Orlov asks, cocking his eyebrow and adjusting his glasses. "What about your blood?" I search the room for my old clothes, finding them folded on the edge of my bed. I walk to them, taking the clothes into my hands. Rummaging through my shirt's pocket, I find the vial, seemingly untouched from all this disaster. I also check my pant pockets for... for something, there's something there. Inside the pocket, I find a crumpled piece of paper, and unfolding it reveals the test results and what's wrong with my blood. Handing the receipt and vial to Dr. Orlov, he quickly takes them both, examining the receipt closely. "Oh my goodness." He whispers, eyes wide.

"What? What's... wrong with me?"

"Brent... when were these results given?"

"Just yesterday morning... I think?"

"You have the hemoglobin S gene?" I nod, cocking my eyebrow. "Then that… Brent… you have sickle cell anemia."

"Sickle cell?" Scratching his neck, Maison looks to both of us. "What does that mean exactly?"

Sighing, the doctor takes his glasses off, they hang off his... neck on a chain of small, silver balls. "It means his blood cells are shaped... wrong. The sickle shape of his blood cells... makes it easier for them to clot and cause... strokes."

My breathing quickens, and I can feel my heart struggling again. "There's a cure, right? There has to be... a cure."

"Sadly," He closes his eyes, his head low. "There is none yet. But! We can give you some medication to treat the many symptoms!" He smiles wide, flipping to a new page on his clipboard and clicking his pen. "What are your symptoms? And the extremity of said symptoms?"

"I feel... fatigued, coughing fits with blood sometimes... um," I groan, gripping my head. "Heart problems... and breathing issues."

He writes them down almost at the speed of light, glancing up after every symptom. "Rather worrying, especially with your recent stroke. I have just the medicine to treat those symptoms." He walks over to the cabinet, shuffling through all the bottles of medicine. Pulling out a few bottles, he holds them in the... fold of his arm, handing some of them to me. "We have narcotics, be sure to take them sparingly because of the addictive state of them, folate, and... guaifenesin." I shiver at the final medicine's name. I stare at the bottles, my mind feeling full and cluttered like a closet struck by a hurricane. "You will have to stay in the hospital for quite a while." I furrow my eyebrows, my face low. "Do not worry, the more... crazed 'infected', as you all put it, will not hurt you here. If anything, you are more safe here than back in Yorkston. I will write up the exact prescription and we can begin your physical therapy tom-"

"Yo! Doc, what it is?" Someone yells as she walks through the door, blowing the strands of obnoxiously dyed hair away from her eyes. 

" _ Ms. Devenish _ !" He huffs, clenching his fists and putting them on his hips. "Please do not yell in the hospital, you know how… sensitive some patients are." She shrugs in response, chuckling under her breath.

I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out... who this person is... oh! "Lisa?"

"Brenty! Whatcha doing here? Thought you had some sciencey stuff to do?"

Dr. Orlov puts his hand on her shoulder, moving her aside a bit. "Brent... had a stroke last night. Officer Ardanowski- Maison brought him here." Maison steps in front of me, puffing out his chest and inhaling deep.

"Woah, calm down there, big boy. I ain't here to hurt anyone."

"So then  _ why  _ are you here?" He asks, lowering his body.

"I  **_work_ ** here?" Shrugging, she raises her eyebrows and purses her lips. "Dr. Orlov placed me in charge of rehabilitation like a few years ago! Turns out med school was  _ actually _ worth something," She looks at all the bottles in my arms, cocking her eyebrow. "Got a lot of drugs, huh? That's fine. But," Taking the bottle of narcotics, she puts it on the table. "That one ain't worth it. No matter what the doc says." She puts her hand on my shoulder, looking me right in the eyes. "We'll start on your treatment later, yeah?" Before she leaves the room, she turns to us. "Buzz me if ya need me, doc!" She salutes us and strides out, yelling down the hall for possibly other doctors.

Maison crosses his arm, his eyebrows low. " _ What _ a character." Huffing, he looks to Dr. Orlov and shifts his eyes to the bottles in my... hands. "It's been fun, doc, and thanks for helping him, but we have to go."

"Go? Where do you possibly have to go?"

"Brent has to go to the Capital to have a nice talk with the boss about his circumstances."

Dr. Orlov blinks a bit, his eyebrows raised as high as they can go on his head. "You  _ must  _ be joking." Maison shakes his head, furrowing his own eyebrows and making Dr. Orlov pinch the bridge of his nose. "No, no, you  **_cannot_ ** visit the Capital. Likely, they have put him on some kind of watchlist. He is a wanted infected now. Did you take him to be fixed?"

"No, that's when he had his stroke."

"Then he surely is being hunted as we speak." Sighing, he retreats to the doorway, motioning for us to follow.

Maison stays by my side as we walk through the musty, dim hallway, with the wallpaper melting off. Dr. Orlov continues to talk as he walks in front of us, "And especially since he was a government employee, he most definitely is a subject of the hunt. They will not stop until they find him."

"But we're in Theta-"

He cuts him off, "They do  **_not_ ** care where he is, they  **_will_ ** find him. They will tear Theta apart atom by atom if it means they find Brent. He is at a horrible risk, not just from them, but from the many infected here as well, so," He slides into a room, shuffling through a stack of folders and pulls out a tag with an... earring and what looks to be an ear piercing gun. "This might sting a little." He tilts my head to his left, and placing the tag-earring on my ear, he pushes the button on the back and it goes straight through my earlobe. No noise comes out of me, but on the inside I am crying... because I forgot how painful getting your ears pierced is. Feeling my earlobe, I also look up and notice Dr. Orlov has one too, except his is far older than mine. "When the infected see your 'tag', they will leave you alone.” He stands up straight and he continues to walk down the hallway, weaving in and out of rooms as his arms grow more and more full with each room he exits. “We’ll have to assign you a room in sector eight and of course inform the staff of the room number and the medication…” His voice grows more and more distant as he walks off, disregarding us completely.

Maison grips my shoulder, his grasp growing tighter. “ _ Pac _ ,” He whispers under his breath. My eyes shift over to him, his face low but eyes stuck forward. “Are you ok? You haven’t talked much.” Opening my mouth, I try to speak, but a sharp pain strikes the right side of my head and I close it. “Hurts to talk?” I nod, gripping my forehead like that would help it. “Then no more talking, better for you not to talk then hurt yourself more, and plus you could take up ASL.” Cocking my eyebrow, I stare at him with narrow eyes. “You know, sign language. I learned a bit back before I moved to Yorkston; my sister was deaf. I could teach you, if you want of course.” Resting my fist under my chin, I think about it, furrowing my eyebrows. I nod, smiling with the left side of my mouth still open slightly. “ _ Great _ !” He yell-whispers, cupping his hand over his mouth. “We can start for real once the doc leaves us alone. Can’t have him interrupting us trying to keep you bed-ridden for the rest of your life.” We continue to talk, and Maison teaches me a few signs, some making sense almost immediately while others… take a bit to grasp. While I look at his hands moving all around the air, I bump into a large figure standing in front of me. It whips its… head around and looms over me, drool dripping out from its mouth. Dried blood covers his raggedy shirt and around his- his mouth… which isn’t a good sign, especially as he growls at me like a rabid animal. And even that could be true. 

Moving closer, his blood-shot eyes notice my tag and they narrow at me, “ _ Unus ex nobis _ .” He says, his voice gravelly and deep.  _ Unus… ex nobis _ ? What is that… Latin? He hunches back over and stomps down the hall, muttering the same phrase under his raspy breath. The flickering lights that sometimes shroud him in darkness don’t help his case whatsoever. 

“Well he was terrifying.” Maison says, reaching down to grab my arm and pulling me up. I stand back up with my crutch, staring off to where the infected went off to, the hallway now deathly quiet with the exception of medical devices beeping and distant talking.

“Where is he?” I sign with the new words I learned just before.

“Who? Oh, the creepy guy?” I shake my head and trace a line on the side of my head, similar to Dr. Orlov’s sutures. Maison furrows his eyebrows, leaning in closer. I groan, making my hands into circles and placing them over my eyes as I attempt to stand on the tips of my toes. “Oh! The doc!” I sigh and nod, smiling a little. Facing the opposite direction, we no longer see any sign of Dr. Orlov. The only thing in the hallway, besides us, is a small mouse scurrying across the floor. “Guess he had other stuff to do.” He gently takes my free hand, tugging me down the hall. I feel my face warm up, but I quickly shake my head. “C’mon, let’s see if there’s a front desk… or something like it. Maybe he’s there?” We begin to walk, but something grabs both our shoulders with cold, grimey hands. Maison yelps, turning around and holding his hands out as if he had a gun.

The figure laughs a… familiar laugh and steps out from the shadows. “Scared ya, didn’t I?” Lisa! She leans around us, glaring down the hallway. “The doc left ya?” I nod, taking a few steps forward. “Yeah, he likes to do that. One minute you’re trying to talk to him about the dosage of penicillin you should give to a woman with severe boils on her skin, and then the next he’s just-  _ Poof _ \- Gone.” She chuckles, putting her hands into the pocket of her ripped-up jeans. “It’s kinda funny sometimes, he just evaporates and he’s on the other side of the building sewing up a patient with a severed arm or whatever.” Striding in front, she motions for us to follow, and we do while Maison steps back a bit before walking. The wallpaper on the walls gradually fade as we make our way through the corridor, the wallpaper going from a bright yellow to a dull and dingy greyish-yellow. I look to Maison’s loose hand, and I reach for it before retracting it back. “I heard you two were planning on seeing the big woman in charge.”

“Who told you?” Maison asks, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Word travels fast around here, especially cause a lot of patients can’t talk, so us talking folk stick to one another. Right, boys?”

I sigh, looking to the ground. Maison looks over to me and back to Lisa. “Pac can’t talk, or well, it just hurts a lot.”

“Oh?” She cocks her eyebrow. “So does he know ASL? That’d come in handy now. If not, I could teach him.”

“ _ I’ve _ been teaching him.” He points to himself. “And I think he’s fine with me being his teacher.

“How do you know ASL, big guy? I thought the force just teaches people how to kill innocent people?” She chuckles, a smug expression on her face. Oh boy.

“My sister was  _ deaf _ , that’s how. And the force doesn’t kill innocents.”

“Oh right, my bad. They  _ lead _ people… down the path of dying.”

“How do you know that? Who told you these obvious lies?”

“Are they lies? Or have  _ you _ been lied to?” She leans in close to his face, he grumbles in response.

I roll my eyes and groan. “ **Stop** .” I sign, looking at the two of them. Narrowing my eyes, I point to the both of them. “You two are like children.” I point at Lisa, and she raises her eyebrows. “We need to leave Theta. How?”

She hisses through her teeth. “Um, look Brenty. I’m all for disobeying the doc, but I think you should stay here.” I cock my eyebrow, mouth drooping open a tad. “You worked for the Man, they’ll come for you eventually. But,” She points to my cane and to my drooping mouth. “I don’t think they’ll accept you now, no offense. Plus, you can’t talk, I don’t know if that’s some sort of requirement for being a lab nerd, but they’ll certainly not be happy about it.”

“I just want this to stop.” I state, huffing and raising my head as best I can. “For everyone.”

The two of them sink down, Lisa sighs and closes her eyes. “Doc’s gonna hate me for this. There’s a secret passageway under Theta that leads to Gamma. You get through that, and poof.” She wiggles her fingers in the air. “You’ll be speaking with the big boss herself.”

“Awesome!” Maison exclaims, smiling wide. “So where is it?”

“It’s the sewers.” His smile disappears immediately and he hunches over. 

“Is there somewhere else we can go?”

“Oh sure, you can just go through the main gate and get spotted by every officer in a foot radius.” She smirks, shoving her hands into her pant pockets. “You want out? You’re going through the sewers. So we better pack some rain boots.” 

“We?” I ask, leaning forward a touch.

She motions for us to follow as she slides into a room. “Someone’s gotta lead the way.” Maison huffs, crossing his arms. “Aw, don’t worry, big guy. I’ll be out of your hair once we make it to Gamma. That sound good?” He looks to the floor and nods. I nod as well, shutting my eyes and smiling. “Then it’s a plan.”

“What plan?” Dr. Orlov asks, suddenly right behind us. Maison and Lisa shout, and I move back. “What are you all talking about? It sounds quite intriguing.” Removing his blood stained gloves, he smiles like a small cat. “What?” He stares at the three of us, our faces covered in worry and fear. Squinting, he places his hand under his chin. “Should this plan be concerning me? Ms. Devenish?”

“Nah, don’t worry, doc!” She wraps her arm over his shoulders. “We were just talking about  _ your birthday _ .” She says in a low voice, winking at us.

“Why are you talking like that?” He furrows his eyebrows, adjusting his glasses. “And birthday? I will not be fifty-three until June-”

“We’re planning it in advance, doc! To show you how much we care about ya.” His eyes shift from her to me. “Now go, go. We have to plan, and  _ you _ probably got some patient in need.” She begins to shove him out the door.

“I think I can stay for a little while-”

“Nope! I heard Mrs. Harley needs a laminectomy ASAP! Really bad that lamina is!” She pushes him out the door and slams it shut. We all sigh, hunching over. “Alright, there’s a door here that connects to another room, we just have to room-hop to get outside.”

I try to think of some kind of sign for Dr. Orlov. When I think of a good one, I sign, “What about Dr. Orlov?” I ask, grazing my finger over the side of my head similar to his sutures.

“Eh, don’t worry about him. Ms. Harley’s on the other side of the building.” She walks over to a door in the corner of the room.The wallpaper around the door is faded and peeling off like a horrendous case of necrosis. “Even if he  _ does _ show up in one of the rooms, he’s got this distinct knock. We hear it, and we’re out of there.” Swinging the door wide open, she motions her arms towards the new room. “Adventure awaits, boys.”

I look to Maison, furrowing my eyebrows. “Do you think this will work? It’s insane!” I sign, looking all around.

Shrugging, he goes through the door and I follow. “I don’t know, she might be right. But she could  _ also _ be lying.” He whispers.

“Why would she?”

He stays silent, his breath ragged. “Just… there’s something about her that I can’t trust. Like she’s hiding something.”

Lisa sighs and turns around dramatically, flipping her hair away from her ears. “You know I can hear you, big guy. You can  _ totally _ trust me.”

He grunts and retracts his head into his body. “See what I mean?”

We start our little ‘room-hop’ in a dark room with a single bed in the middle of it. The body laying in it hooked up to many machines, their breathing uneven. It’s sad, really.  _ That _ could’ve been  _ me _ . I stand in the room for a little while, just… staring at the body. Soon, they begin to hyperventilate and flail their arms in the air, screaming their lungs out. Stumbling out the door, I look back to see a few nurses running into the room and managing the machines.

Tugging on Lisa’s jacket, I ask, “So how many doors are there?”

“Got a few, should be easy enough. In and out-  _ Shit! _ ” She yells after a series of knocks comes from the other door. Taking us by the arms, she drags us through the upcoming doors, just ramming her shoulder into the door and bursting them open. At the final door, she throws us in, slamming the door shut and locking it. She rests her hands on her… knees, breathing in and out hard. She looks up. “You boys alright?”

“ _ What was that about _ ?!” Maison yell-whispers, attempting to get up from off the floor. I groan, struggling to stand, and Maison helps me by holding my shoulders up as I grab my cane and support myself. “ _ Are you insane _ ?!”

“ _ Quiet _ !” She whispers, resting her ear on the door. “Alright, I don’t think he heard us.”

“That’s…  _ surprising _ .” I say, actually surprising myself. “The doctor… can hear a lot. He’s… he’s like a dog.” 

“Yeah, but the man’s busy as hell. He’s too focused on his work to actually, you know, investigate.” She moves to the other door and opens it slightly, revealing a shred of natural light I haven’t seen in a good while. “You two ready? It ain’t gonna be easy getting to the sewer. There’s gonna be infected and-” A loud clang goes off outside, and Lisa and I look; the door’s wide open, and Maison just uncovered a sewer grate, standing proud.

Cocking his eyebrow, he chuckles. “Look what  _ I _ found.” He states smugly, pointing to himself with his thumb. “The entrance to the sewer!”

Lisa scoffs, walking over to the hole with her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Yeah, whatever, big guy. You found it,  _ yippee _ ! Are you gonna go down it or just stand there like a big doofus.”

He puts his hand on her shoulder, hushing her. “Just… just let me have this.” He asks in a fake sad voice. Rolling her eyes, she pushes him off.

I don’t know what I thought a sewer smelt like, but it isn’t this. It’s surprisingly… clean? Seems more like a workers’ tunnel if anything, what with the stream of lights that lead down many different tunnels. There’s… also little to no water. Just pure concrete for as long as you can see, which isn’t very far. Lisa reaches into her jacket and tries to pull something out. “What do… you have?” I try to ask, my voice straining badly. I ask Maison what flashlight is in ASL, and he shows me. She turns around, still holding her hand in her jacket. “Alright, boys, you ready for the big reveal?” We both nod and she reaches into her pockets and pulls out… glow sticks? “Ta-da!”

Maison stands there, mouth agape and eyes wide. “Are you  _ serious _ ? Glow sticks?”

“What? We can use them to light- our-” She begins to laugh, throwing the bundle of them at Maison. “I’m just joshing you, big guy!” She shuffles her hand in her pockets and pulls out a small flashlight. “You can keep the glow sticks, free of charge.” He huffs, taking one out of the bundle and cracking it with a grumpy expression. Turning around, she spins the flashlight in her hand and points it down the end of the tunnel. “Everyone ready? Let’s do this.” We walk down the vacant tunnel system, following Lisa’s every movement. Sounds of metal echo throughout, fading out into the darkness.


End file.
